Woman of Steel, Man of Kleenex
by frogfarm
Summary: Buffybot offers herself to Xander, with unexpected results. Frank discussion of smutty issues, and absolutely no cheating on anyone.


It's just another night like any other. Just another night without Buffy, a night out with Buffybot. And everything has gone remarkably well except for when Tara came this close to being attacked by a vampire, which stressed Willow out quite a bit. Enough, in fact, that a flaming spear appeared from nowhere and instantly impaled the vampire before he had time to scream, sending him up in a huge orange poof.

After that, they had all been more than willing to call it an early night. They make it back to the Summers house in one piece, bot included, and Xander stands awkwardly on the porch beside the girls - _women! Women and robot!_ \- as Willow unlocks the door.

"Buffybot, do you remember how to connect your external power supply?"

"I sure do, Willow." The bot's smile is practically bursting with sunshine. "I like the way it feels. It makes me feel warm, and then I feel sleepy. And then I wake up."

"Good." Willow nods, a flicker of pain vanishing from her face. "Okay. Xander, call me if you need anything, but right now I gotta get this girl to bed. Tara too."

"Go ahead." Xander nods. "Dawn and I can handle her."

"Dawn's spending the night at Janice's." Tara winces as she leans on Willow, favoring the lightly twisted ankle she sustained in the process of avoiding far worse. Her worried glance toward Xander says something like _when did we start saying her_ , knowing full well they mostly only try to do it in front of her. _It._

"Right - forgot. Okay. We're good." Xander rubs his eyes. "C'mon, Botty. Let's get you plugged in."

He follows her over the threshold and shuts the door behind them before he has to stop and grab the banister in front of him, take a few deep breaths to clear his head. Buffybot is looking at him, heavy on the concern.

"Xander, are you all right?"

"I'll be okay." He plasters on a smile, or enough of one to pass as reassurance to her circuitry. She smiles back and races up the steps ahead of him, bounding like a tireless little gazelle. Xander groans and follows far more slowly, and a good deal less gracefully.

By the time he makes it to the top and down the hall to Buffy's room, the bot has already hung up her red leather jacket. She sits down on the bed to remove the matching pair of pumps.

"These aren't the best shoes for slaying," the bot observes, as Xander enters and plops down in the hair by the dresser. She looks up at him and brightens. "But they do show off my bum."

He winces at her vaguely British inflection on the final word. As well as the rest of her sentence. "You don't need any help, right?"

"Oh, no." She reaches out and pats the enormous hunk of metal sitting next to the bed, a pair of thick cables running from its twin terminals. "I know right where it goes."

He winces again, hard enough to close his eyes and scrunch up his face. "I thought Willow turned down your double entendre setting."

"Part of the base kernel. Kinda baked into the cake." She swings her legs onto the bed and leans back, arranging herself on the pillows.

Xander swallows, on the verge of rising to leave until he realizes that other part of him is predictably already risen. As carefully as possible, he crosses one leg over his other knee.

"So you're saying you can't turn it off."

"Not really." She shrugs by way of apology, staring at her feet. A frown crosses her face as she wiggles her toes. "Kind of like battle lust."

The crucial split second passes without Xander devolving into a convulsing fit of choking, and he takes another deep breath.

"Pardon?"

He'd really been trying not to sound squeaky there. Failed at the last.

"Oh, yeah." Buffybot nods vigorously. "It's totally a thing. Just look at all that Xena fan fiction."

"I'll...take your word for it." Is he desperate enough to start listing writers and artists on The Mighty Thor in chronological order? Usually he saves truly drastic measures for the inevitable nights (and occasional days, and lunch breaks) when Anya's making particularly rigorous demands on his stamina.

"I mean, look at Faith. Hungry and horny ring a bell?" Buffybot shakes her head, ignoring Xander's sudden onset of near-silent spasms and spluttering. "I tried to play it cool all those years, but it's true. Slayer's like a soldier. You come out on top of death, and it's like - you just want to go out and _double_ prove you're alive."

"Wow." The head on his shoulders is spinning a little. On the plus side, his hard-on has lost a good level of interest in the discussion. "That's actually a really good thought."

"I know, right?" The bot turns and grins at him. "Sometimes I'm not as blonde as I look."

He doesn't have to pretend to laugh. It feels good, and he's still chuckling when the bot speaks again.

"So would you like to have sex?"

His world screeches to a shuddering halt. Xander closes his eyes and counts very slowly from one to five, making sure to breath along with the count.

"Yes." He opens his eyes. She's still looking at him, expectant and smiling. "But we're not gonna."

Her face falls so hard, he has to remind himself it's only plastic.

"Why?"

"Because I'm with Anya." The response is automatic, literally without thought. "And even though I haven't literally promised myself to her, and over and above the fact that as an ex-vengeance demon she probably knows a thousand ways to dispose of a body -" He shakes his head. "That's just not an option for me."

"But why?" She doesn't even sound the least bit whiny. More like she's really struggling to understand. Xander wrestles with his own arguments, wondering just how capable of learning this thing actually is.

"Because it would be wrong. For more than one reason." He weighs his next words carefully, testing them on the scales of his thought before speaking aloud. "And I accept that Buffy - that you don't feel that way. About me."

That throws the bot for a minor loop. "I don't?"

"No. I'm your Xander-shaped friend." He leans back in the chair and opens his arms. "See? You fit right here."

Her face curls into a skeptical frown. Xander sighs and clambers to his feet, ignoring aching muscles and the warning bells screaming in his mind.

"Move over."

The bot scoots a foot toward him. Xander points.

"Other way."

"You're no fun." Nevertheless, she obeys with alacrity. Xander lowers himself to the bed with a grunt, raising his arm and nodding.

"See? Right there."

The bot slowly sits up, still looking hesitant. Then her compact little body is settling in, curling up on his chest, letting her arms naturally surround and embrace him. He thinks at least a minute passes; him breathing, her pretending to breathe.

"This is nice," she murmurs.

"Yeah." He sniffs her hair and god damn if it isn't almost perfect. "Yeah. It is."

Her voice takes a hopeful turn. "Sex is nice too."

"Yes it is." His own voice cracks despite himself. He clears his throat, hastily casting about for the wisdom of a quote. "As Woody said - sex without love is an empty experience. But as empty experiences go, it's one of the best."

"But we do love each other." He can hear the frown in her voice.

"I know," he says quietly. "Just not like that. If you did -"

He swallows back a tight surge of emotion, and she hugs him in response. It only increases the pressure on his once more rampant erection, a muffled grunt escaping before he can choke it off. A coy smile drifts across her lips as she glances down at his crotch.

"Why, sir." The affectation of a Southern drawl sends fresh blood sailing south of his own border in solidarity. "Is that for little old me?"

"No." Xander stifles a groan at the image of her in a form-fitting pair of classic Daisy Dukes, peering back at him over one dropped bare shoulder. "That is the exclusive property of one Xander Harris, with limited lease options strictly available to one outside holder. Literally."

A coquettish look, further accentuated by batting eyelashes. "I'd take very good care of it."

The pout very nearly does him in. Truly, it's a work of art.

"I'm sure you would." His voice is gentle. "But you're not going to force yourself on me. Are you?"

"No." She sounds horrified at the prospect, drawing away in shock. "That would be wrong."

He pulls her back down and plants a kiss on the top of her head.

"Then feel free to rock yourself to sleep with whatever dirty thoughts happen to strike your fancy. Because I know that no matter how hard I try not to, I'm gonna be thinking of this conversation for the rest of my life. And the only way to avoid feeling guilty will be for me to tell Anya everything. Because once she's done scolding me, she'll be so turned on, she'll want to - well."

She peers up at him, suspicious scowl back in full force. "You are surprisingly less fun every day."

"I'll take that as a compliment." A stray thought catches Xander's fancy, and he blurts it out. "Can you masturbate?"

"Oh, I'm very good at masturbation." Buffybot beams with pride. "Everyone says so."

"Well -" He clears his throat, trying not to think on who might be included in that figure. "So, that's an option. For you. Like with me."

Her puzzled frown doesn't look so much uncomprehending. More like she thinks he's got to be pulling her leg.

"Seriously," Xander insists. The more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. "Why not?"

Her brow wrinkles. "You mean...without someone else watching?"

"That -" He swallows, manages a quick exhale. "That's the idea."

"But that's the whole point." The pout returns. "To drive people wild."

"The point is to drive you wild." Xander can't believe he's saying this. "If someone else is watching - well, that you know is watching, and you're good with it - okay. Bonus. But the feeling good? That's the point."

She sounds dubious. "It's better when someone else does it."

"I know." He holds her close to his chest. Even the rhythm of her breathing is all too human, just slightly out of sync with his own. "But as long as you don't let it rule your life - it can help."

"When you go home." A devilish note enters her voice. "Are you gonna -"

"I might." It's a good thing they're lying down; all the blood that hasn't rushed to his crotch is flushing his cheeks and forehead. "Anya doesn't really like me to. Unless she gets to watch."

"A woman after my own heart." Her giggle pierces his own, the stabbing pain another reminder of their loss.

"But sometimes -" He holds her close and somehow the tears remain at bay. "Well."

"Yeah." Her hand moves in lazy, innocent circles on his chest. "I'll be thinking of you."

"I'm flattered." Xander gives silent thanks to whatever God may be, followed immediately by his most heartfelt prayer to date. "Just don't tell anyone, okay?"

She snuggles tighter against him, and his heart breaks all over again.

"It'll be our secret."


End file.
